The Boy Who Could Not Die
by TheGirlWithFarTooManyIdeas
Summary: At seven, Harry stumbles out of the car crash that killed his uncle despite the fact he should be dead. It is at this moment that he discovers that, unless a very specific weapon is used, he cannot suffer injury, he cannot feel pain, and he cannot die. Harry proceeds to abuse the hell out of this. A lot. Black comedy, dark, some bloody scenes, Harry/Ginny eventually
1. Chapter 1

**The Boy Who Could Not Die**

**Wanda: And here it finally is! The idea I got when I decided that Harry being a horcrux made no frigging sense to me. You guys have been waiting for this one for a while and here it finally is! I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Prologue**

It was a ghastly wreck.

The car had fallen from the raised highway several stories before smashing onto the abandoned road below. The front if it had caved in, crumpling the entire vehicle like an accordion. All the windows had shattered completely, leaving glass littered several feet around. The engine had been destroyed, the leaking gasoline igniting and setting part of the old car on fire.

It was a late night on New Years Eve, hence why there wasn't anyone else around on this particular stretch of road. It was far from a big city and close to a small town; either there weren't any decent bars to go to or everyone was staying in one place for their celebration. The only reason that this car had been out and about was because they were coming back from a failed exorcism. The family had been afraid that magic was going to ruin their holiday, and the man of the house had sworn that it would not happen and that he would fix it once and for all.

The accident had been simple. Someone had been travelling for a magic show, but their trunk had been overstuffed. One of the things that had been barely fitting in was an anvil to pin down one of the particularly tough traps. Thanks to both the speed and its own weight, the bungee cord snapped and the anvil tumbled out on the road, the oblivious drivers moving on.

Truth was stranger, and sometimes more disturbing, then fiction. Once it was eventually discovered, it would be plastered all over the news in the surrounding area. People would flock to it and gape in horror or disgust as the forensic men worked, people would talk about or exploit the tragedy for the sake of appearing on the news and getting a few minutes of fame. The family would enjoy the fame for longer, but once the accident was forgotten so were they.

The accident, in another world, wasn't meant to happen. But in most worlds, people rarely do what you expect them to.

It was dark when the van containing two members of the Dursley family came rushing down the road, so the driver didn't see the hulking black shape of the fallen anvil until he was right in front of it. Perhaps with light he wouldn't have seen it either, he had been directing a furious rant to his nephew over how the day had been wasted and nothing had changed.

Once he had seen it, he tried to swerve, but the car struck it anyhow, sending it flipping over and over until it smashed through the iron guardrails and fell to the ground below.

There had been no one on the road to call the police. Either way, it wouldn't have changed the outcome.

One of the side doors creaked suddenly. A body hammered against it several times, forcing it to open just slightly in spite of the dangers, of the metal was white hot and the sharp glass fragments were sticking out in all directions.

Slowly, the door widened just enough for a small figure to squeeze through and fall to the ground with a thud. He lay there for a moment before, in a moment that should have been impossible, he started to move.

Turning over slowly, he tossed aside his ruined glasses, leaving him with a blurred dark sky. His vision, while not utterly blind, was not great though he could make out general shapes and directions without his glasses. It was somewhat of a necessity, because his cousin who enjoyed making life very difficult for him liked to punch and break them, when they had never been that strong to begin with.

Slowly and uncertainly, the boy pushed himself up on his elbows and stared blankly at the wreck. Not fully comprehending what had just happened, he remained there for a moment, waiting for his uncle to come and join him.

Minutes ticked by. The fire spread slowly, and his uncle never appeared.

The boy takes a few deep breaths and gathers himself to his feat slowly. His baggy shirt is ripped open at the back, exposing his scrawny form and the bones in his back, which you could count through his skin. He's small for his age, battered but entirely unharmed. He hadn't been crushed by the fall, burned by the fire, or cut by the glass. In fact, the only thing that had received any damage had been his already worn and second hand clothes.

The only real scar was a curious one on his forehead, but that had existed from long before this.

Unmarked by fire, glass or blood, the boy walked over to the car wreck.

His torn shoe splashes into a thick red puddle.

The boy blinked and looked down at it. It took the dazed young boy a few minutes to realize what it was; then he turned away and staggered over to the side of the road.

He was standing in blood. Next to his shoe was a chunky pink fragment, sloppy and smashed as though it had been flung a distance.

Collapsing on his hands and knees, he vomited twice (not that there was much in his stomach to loose), the hideous scene burned into his eyes.

Yet morbid shock caused him to turn his head back and look at what remained.

A pair of dim green eyes are raised until they look at where the car seat had been. A pink cloud had splattered all over the inside of the windshield. A fat, floppy arm lay a few feet to the right not far from him, an ugly white bone sticking out of where it had connected to the elbow socket. The fingers were jerked in a silent scream, nails digging into the palm.

The boy yanked his eyes away from the arm, not wanting to see more, but instead he found himself faced with something much more twisted.

Just inside the wreck – it was hard to see distinctly, but the man in question had been large enough to see either way – was a shattered mess of flesh and bone, distorted and broken apart in ways the boy had never imagined. Blood splattered all over the inside of the car. Intestines hung out of the broken windshield. The skull had imploded, the eyes knocked inward by the force of the impact and the back of the head broken open. The spine was sticking out of the back of the neck.

What a mess.

For a long time, Harry Potter stood there, staring at the remains of the man who had terrorized him ever since he was tiny, uncertain and afraid of the lack of emotion in his chest.

Uncle Vernon was dead. He was not.

It was this fact that Harry was trying to wrap his head around.

Why? Uncle Vernon was big and strong. He could throw Harry into that pitch black cupboard, where it looked like the shadows would swallow him whole and spiders made their nests in his hair. He could throw an entire bucket of cleaning liquid whenever Harry didn't clean the patio, even though it had been clean before Dudley and his gang stormed back into the house after playing violently in the park.

And yet here he was, bloody paste while Harry was standing tall and free.

Uncle Vernon was dead. Uncle Vernon was dead. _Uncle Vernon was dead!_

Harry felt something that only unlucky children felt at that moment. Right then, when this sank in, he was elated. Vernon was gone, the shouting and the curses and the threats that he shouldn't be alive and that the mistake should be rectified would never be spoken again. Vernon was GONE!

Basking in this feeling, Harry quickly felt shame, and then fear. Vernon was gone...but he was still alive?

The young boy looked back at the wreck. He didn't understand everything – there was only so much of the world he had even been allowed to understand, though he didn't know that at the time – but he knew that a crash like that should have killed him.

It should have killed him and ended the life that his Aunt Petunia didn't think was worth hot water for baths or the scraps that _her _son left behind after he'd torn through three servings like a hog. It should have snuffed out the little boy that no one wanted to be friends with, the burden that two alcoholics hadn't cared about enough to keep themselves and him safe, the unwanted trash that had to be kept, the freak that had no place in this world.

_Freak._

The word came back to him.

It haunted his sleep. Shadows hissed it at him when he was alone. Dudley and his gang shouted it at him from the playground. His aunt shrieked it at him whenever something strange happened. His uncle bellowed it whenever he did something wrong.

_Freak._

Harry kept staring at the mess of blood and bone, the word echoing in his head, taunting him.

He was a freak...how else could he be alive while Uncle Vernon was dead? His uncle, completely destroyed, ruined by this crash...while... while...

Harry looked down at himself, tugging at his sleeves.

There was nothing wrong with him. No wounds. No blood. No burns. Not even bruises or small cuts from the glass. Just dirt.

_Freak_. He could hear Petunia screech it as though she was right next to him.

And she was right. Oh dear god in his heaven, she was _right_. Harry's shoulders started to shake as the fact hit home. All the terrible memories he tried to suppress just to get from one day to the next started to pour forward before his waking eyes.

Alone in the dark, a small chuckle broke the silence. Slowly, that chuckle turned into a laugh, which escalated until it thundered above the crackling of the fire, a hysterical, frightened, mad noise that was terrible to listen to. It was the laugh of someone who had accepted a terrible truth.

/

Harry was there for a while, watching blood drip down from the car as the fire raged on.

He was on his knees, a seven year old with blood washing up against his hands and his mind completely lost in what he knew and what he had just experienced. But eventually, the boy's mind started functioning again and he stood up, gave the wreck one last look, and fled down the highway.

The reason for this? Well...he was a seven year old boy who discovered he wasn't entirely human. He was panicking, he was upset, and most of all he didn't want to remain at the car to be discovered alive instead of his uncle Vernon.

God alone knew what Petunia would say to that.

Harry had a faint idea, and it scared him. And even if he wasn't afraid of her – even if she couldn't kill him, like the crash – he didn't _want _to go back to her.

So Harry ran. And he ran. And he ran.

The sun rose and then fell.

After a while, his throat began to burn from lack of water but he could still move, still run, so he didn't stop.

Another day went by and he was still running.

His vision was foggy and the pain in his throat was hard to ignore, but instead of dropping dead or his legs giving out, he was still strong and able so he kept moving.

He would have run all the way through the third night as well but it was at that point he found a stream. Collapsing next to it, Harry drank and drank, the cool water soothing him. When he blinked his eyes, he found himself seeing more clearly then he had before, and his head had become less foggy.

_Why didn't it hurt? Why didn't anything hurt?_

Harry couldn't answer the question. So he kept running. He would continue to run, as far as he could, until he began to discover the truth.

**End Prologue**

**Hah! Sorry, I always get a twinge of satisfaction whenever I kill off one of the Dursleys. A-n-y-how, here begins Harry's journey into partial insanity and total lack of self-regard that will involve jumping in front of trains for shits and giggles. And much fun was had by all.**

**Read and Review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Boy Who Could Not Die**

**Wanda: Ugh, I had a brain shortage writing this chapter. Sorry its short. I just wanted to get establishing out of the way. My god, anyone who says writing isn't difficult has clearly never tried it. I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter 2: Invulnerable**

Harry had a gift for finding trouble. In some ways, his apparent invincibility was a blessing.

"You have a death wish, you damn brat?!"

Two men dressed in black with guns were bullying people inside the convenience store Harry had found after following the highway to its end. He had thought about sneaking out the back door, but the thought flew out of his head when one of the men pulled a girl his age away from her mother and threw her onto the ground.

He ran out in front of her and shoved the man's hands away, telling them to leave her alone. The guy seemed startled by his nerve, but the second one shoved a gun in his face and told him to move.

Harry shook his head, so the man shot him twice in the face.

The bullets impacted his forehead, causing him to stumble backwards, blinking. The shells fell to the floor with a clink, because suddenly the store was quite silent.

Harry looked up at the men, who were staring at him in abject shock. "I said, leave her alone," He said firmly.

The second man choked and sputtered. His friend seemed to regain his wits at this; he raised his gun and shot Harry again, this time in the chest. Harry winced slightly, but he didn't stumble this time. He glanced down at the hole in his shirt and then back up at the men.

They had gone white as snow. The first man sputtered something like "what-how-oh god-" just before the second one threw his gun down and ran out the door, his companion following him a few moments later.

Harry let out his breath and rubbed at the hole in his shirt, blinking. _Why doesn't it hurt? Why doesn't anything hurt? _He still didn't know why.

The girl got up and asked him if he was okay. He muttered 'yeah' distractedly as he kept rubbing his shirt, looking for some sort of injury.

The girl stepped out in front of him and stared at him. "I can't believe it," She said quietly. Her parents rushed over and checked him too. "Who are you?" She asked him.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. Eventually, he shrugged, and said, "I'm a freak. I'm a monster. And... and I don't think I can get hurt."

/

The girl and her parents took care of him for a few days before Harry had to leave again.

He kept walking, unsure of where he was going, what he was running from or what he was looking for. At some point, the days just blurred together and the present was all he can think about.

A home? Harry didn't think that was possible – some nights he would look in a window and see parents laughing at jokes or children playing under the window, but none of them were like him. They could stumble or fall, yelping in pain, while their family helped them up.

He couldn't avoid the trouble either. It seemed no matter where he went, there was always someone with a gun or a knife holding up someone else and threatening them like Dudley used to.

Harry always intervened. He couldn't help it; it was an instinct and no matter what he tried he never seemed to get hurt.

There was one time he shoved a kid off the street and got hit head on by a semi truck. He was flung backwards several feet, crashed into the back of a cab and got right back up, leaving an indentation in the vehicle's trunk. Another time, he had been assisting getting a car off the tracks when a train rapidly approached. With a flash of his 'special thing' (it was the thing Vernon had hated the most, though Harry couldn't quite use it on command) he forced the car off the tracks and was promptly swept up by the cowcatcher. The conductor hadn't even noticed him until the train reached it's stop and was finally going slow enough for Harry to get off.

Sometimes he wondered, if it was even possible for him to die, that he might want to. Harry had never felt so utterly alone in the world as when he had stumbled out of that car.

He was something that wasn't even wholly human; something no one would want (or so he believed at that point in time).

He tried jumping off a skyscraper once. All he managed to do was smash a manhole and get totally covered in tar. It had been quite embarrassing, _and _he'd gotten yelled at by the construction workers.

Standing inside a fire did no good either – all it did was wreck his clothes. Well, at least that little girl had been overjoyed he had rescued her kitty.

Harry kept wandering, a freak who had no place in the world, who terrified people whenever he showed up.

Eventually he got used to wandering – he didn't get cold so he could sleep in snow, he didn't always need food so he had time to get money for it. He didn't have anywhere to be or anyone looking for him, and after a while...it was sort of peaceful. He was never in danger, he could get up when he wanted and do things that interested him. He didn't have to worry about anything.

As much as he appreciated it, he felt...aimless. Lonely, as well, of course, but he didn't know what to do about that. The answer to that came once he had wandered far out into the British countryside.

%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;

"DROP YOUR WANDS OR THE FLITHY BLOOD TRAITOR BITCH DIES!"

Harry was jolted awake by banging and shouting downstairs. Quickly he rolled over and pressed his ear against the floor of the attic. He had hidden himself away at the top of a store early that week; the owner seemed to think of him like a stray dog that could stick around for treats and comfort when necessary.

Now, however, the usually tranquill store was in upheval. Harry recognized the noises as being just like other holdups he had seen before. Carefully he threw the tattered blanket aside and crawled over to the stairwell down to the main floors.

Upon reaching the bannisters, Harry observed the scene below him. A family of redheads was being accosted by a group of other, vaguely inbred looking individuals who were pointing odd-looking sticks at the smallest among them, who had collapsed on the floor in between the opposing groups.

(Harry was distinctly reminded of a hillbilly family he had stumbled across once. After sticking his head in a can of bleach once escaping their clutches, he had vowed to never enter that part of the woods again)

Harry frowned. He couldn't see how the sticks were supposed to hurt the red haired girl, but the woman was sobbing and begging so a threat clearly existed. Snorting slightly, the boy hoisted himself up on the railing, stretched both his arms out and jumped.

He landed directly in front of the girl just as three blasts of green light burst from the sticks, all of them striking him in the chest. The blows didn't even stun him. He barely felt the impact; usually bullets at least knocked some air out of his lungs.

Harry righted himself, brushed off his shirt and looked incredulously at the three men. "Are those supposed to be flare guns?" He asked conversationally. "You should probably get a refund."

Dead silence had fallen over the shop. Harry didn't wait for them to respond, he threw himself at the middle man and knocked him off his feet. Punching the man in the face, he flipped over and slammed his heel down on the stick breaking it in two.

Straightening up, he mockingly waved one finger before the other two men. "That's what you get for buying the no – name brands." He chuckled.

He was rather disappointed that neither men rose to the bait – they were too busy staring at him as if he had turned into a jackrabbit, stuttering 'impossible' over and over again.

"Ah, whatdaya know...you're all big and bag when you have the advantage but the minute your guns jam -" Harry whistled and pretended to blow away smoke from his finger. "-you're a bunch of cowardly pansies. Then again, weren't you always that? I mean, picking on a little girl...are you that insecure?"

He grinned at their rapidly paleing faces. Taking a casual step towards them, he said, "Boo."

Both men turned and fled.

"Eth, they're all the same," Harry remarked in a bored fashion, pivoting on his heel and smiling down at the stunned girl. "Two bit losers who run the minute the going gets tough." Walking over to her, he took her hands and pulled her to her feet. "You're not hurt, right?"

The girl nodded mutely, staring at him in awed silence.

"That...that was the killing curse." Harry glanced over at the father, who was giving him the same look. "You were hit by three killing curses at once?"

"Killing curses? I thought they were laser lights." Harry said, affecting innocent confusion with an edge of mockery.

"What now?"

"Y'know, those things that cats like to chase and grade schools hand out at dance-a-thons so kids can try to blind each other?" Harry waved his hand, trying to mimic the pointed lights. "Sorry, bad example. Those were more light floodlights."

"You-do you understand what just happened?" The man stammered out. "You should be dead. No one has ever survived the curse...other then one..."

"Yeeeaah, if only you knew how many times I heard that," Harry said with a slight snort.

"Ginny, oh Ginny..." The woman quickly wrapped her daughter in a hug, sobbing with relief. "My little girl, oh thank Merlin."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly. _Merlin_? That was new. Since when did people swear by Merlin?

The woman released Ginny, hurried over to him and hugged him tightly. Harry woofed and froze up a bit; he had never been hugged before and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

"It was no big deal," Harry mumbled, pulling himself free and looking down at his shoes. "No problem at all..."

The man stared at his forehead for a moment. "My goodness...You're Harry Potter!"

Harry's eyes widened. Taking a step back with his hands in the air, he said, "Whoa, what? How do you know my name?"

That was when he was told that he was a wizard. Harry would soon discover many, many more ways to stare death in the face...and find inventive ways to violate every law of common sense.

**End Chapter**

**And so Harry becomes one step closer to being a Weasley (aka best wizarding family ever). Next chapter, he terrorizes Draco Malfoy, gives Minerva McGonagall multiple heart attacks, and generally causes mass havoc and panic with his antics. **


	3. Chapter 3

**The Boy Who Could Not Die**

**Wanda: Heh, it took me a while to figure out how to deal with the initial PS/SS plot because that tends to get stretched out in retellings of the story, so I decided to go for condensed instead. I mean, I wouldn't want to look for something different only to read the same events for ages. I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter 3: School Safety Precautions? What're Those?**

"So you really can't be killed?"

Harry leaned back against the sofa, staring back at the inquisitive face of Ron Weasley. After the confrontation in the shop, the Weasleys had taken him in and told him all about magic and Hogwarts.

Harry's mind was slightly blown upon gaining so many answers to the strange events in his life. The Weasleys were a kind bunch, not unlike the first family he had come across – they had even helped him get his school supplies.

He could see Ron dying of curiosity the entire duration of the trip, since even his parents didn't understand what made Harry so indestructible.

"As far as I can tell? No," Harry responded in a matter of fact way. "The scar on my head is the only one I ever got. I fell off a skyscraper once and all I had to show for it was a lifetime supply of tar. It took me two hours to wash it all off."

"Skyscraper?" Ron asked, blinking. It astounded Harry how little wizards knew about normal people, and vise versa. Unlike the non magical folk, who weren't allowed to wander freely in this world unless they had magical family members, wizards were perfectly at liberty to acknowledge their brethren but took no advantage of it.

"A huge building, with a lot of glass windows." Harry explained. "Imagine having a hundred versions of your house stacked on top of each other."

"Wow!" Ron said, amazed. "How can they make something that big without magic?"

"Ingenuity." Harry responded. "And a four-year apprenticeship in Construction work. It's more complicated then that in practice, but that's all I really know."

"Fell off a skyscraper?" Both Harry and Ron turned their heads towards the new voice. A girl was standing in their doorway, frowning at him. "How did you survive that? Even magic shouldn't have kept you safe."

Harry shrugged. "I'm an exception, apparently. What's your name?"

The girl flushed, realizing how rude she had been. "I'm Hermione Granger. And you are...?"

"Harry Potter, and that's my friend Ron Weasley." Harry said. "And...c'mon, Hermione – I can call you that, right? - magic is real! MAGIC! There should _be _no conceivable limit on what's possible or impossible now."

Hermione sank into the seat next to him. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry theatrically rolled his eyes. "No matter where I go, I can't escape being stared at like I have two heads or something," He said with faux bitterness.

"I'm sorry," Hermione stammered, dropping her head to stare at her feet, looking extremely ashamed.

Harry quickly backed up a bit at this and said, "Hey, don't worry about it. I've gotten used to that by now. I was just joking around."

Hermione smiled tentatively at that when she looked up again.

"If it isn't the mighty Harry Potter," A new voice said. Harry frowned when a smirking blonde boy and two gorilla like bodyguards made their way into the compartment. Looking contemptously down at Hermione, he said, "Scurry off, mudblood, I have a proposition to make."

"...What did you just call my new friend?" Harry asked, any manic amusement leaving his voice at once. He stood up and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, as the girl had gotten up to move, fighting tears.

"What does it matter?" The blonde scoffed. "Mudbloods like her don't belong in this school, but-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, a half-baked plan to win the alliance of the one wizard apparently more powerful then his father's former master. Harry surged forward and punched him square in the nose, breaking it and sending him flying against the wall.

The two gorillas shot him a stunned look before picking the kid up and disappearing down the hallway.

Hermione gaped at Harry, who shook his wrist off while glaring in the direction they had left. "I don't know much about magic right now," He muttered, "But I'm pretty sure that's a variation of the N word."

Hermione nodded, rubbing at the edges of her eyes. "Mudblood is a really foul name for someone who doesn't have magical parents. Someone like me," She explained, coughing a bit.

Harry sat down next to her and said, "That's what I thought. Forget him, Hermione. People like him are pitiful; don't even pay any attention to him."

Hermione wiped her tears away and smiled. On that day, Harry gained two friends instead of one.

**At the School**

Ron had told Harry about Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration professor, ahead of time, so he wasn't _too _intimidated when she came to collect them and brought them into the hall with the rest of the students. In fairy short order, Harry, Hermione and Ron were all sorted into Gryffindor (while the blonde prat was sent to Slytherin, glaring hatefully at Harry while rubbing a fixed but still tender nose) and dinner was served.

Harry ate greedily. While he didn't need food consistently, he had little energy without it. He had never seen this much food in one place before, either.

With the first day of class Harry had resigned himself to being the centre of attention, but instead of being an excersie in exhaustion as he had expected, there were times when it was rather amusing. Potions class was one of them.

"Ah, Harry Potter, out new...celebrity." Severus Snape droned, earning laughter among the more sychophantic Slytherins. "I hope you weren't expecting to use your fame to gain easy grades in this classroom."

"That's very nice of you to acknowledge my situation, sir," Harry said cheerfully. "I found all the staring incredibly uncomfortable yesterday, you'd think I could fly or vomit rainbows or something."

The professor's eye twitched violently. "Feel free to treat me like a fool, because the grand total of magical learning I have received can be summed up in a soup tin." Harry added, grinning at the man's shocked expression when he said that. To demonstrate, he dropped an iron pot on his head and made a 'd'oh!' expression, earning more laughter.

"Five points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class," Snape growled as Harry placed the cauldron back on the table. No one had noticed it was dented where it had hit his head yet. It was pretty clear this teacher didn't care for him, so he just decided to give the man an idea of what to expect.

The first few weeks or so were actually rather tranquil. It surprised Harry that the place he found himself most at ease was an extremely foreign place where you turned matches into needles and regularly defied the laws of physics. Or, at least the teachers did – some student's attempts were less successful. Seamus Finnigen had a tendency by the end of the first week to set everything on fire no matter what spell he was trying.

However, the rapid-fire violence of his earlier days returned in record time when flying classes were begun. Harry had managed to mount and elderly-looking broom when Hermione's suddenly rose in the air without her consent.

"Come down!" Madam Hooch yelled. Hermione attempts did nothing, however. The broom bucked and rolled from side to side, hurting higher into the air as it went. Harry caught sight of Draco smirking out of the corner of his eye.

Harry had a bad feeling, so he did what he did best – he got on his broom and made it go up. His was no less uncooperative, but it got him halfway towards Hermione when her broom flung her through the air, hundreds of feet above the ground.

Harry jumped, catching Hermione and holding her on top of him so when they hit the ground, she bounced and rolled off unharmed.

It took him a minute to catch his breath, but then Harry stood straight up to the awe of the rest of the student body.

"HARRY POTTER!" The enraged and panicked voice of Professor McGonagall saved Harry from further mugging. The older teacher was bolting across the ground, face white as snow. "How dare you – you both could have died -" She stopped straight in front of him and looked him over for a minute, before withdrawing and staring.

"And...you...aren't even hurt." She trailed off. "Mr Potter, what just happened?"

"Hermione fell, her broom was acting up." Harry explained simply. "So I caught her."

"You...you could have been killed!"

"But I didn't. And besides, everyone else was standing around yelling while Hermione was being tossed around." Harry said with a shrug.

That, apparently, wasn't quite the right thing to say. Professor McGonagall hauled him aside and gave him a rant that put all of Petunia's shrieking to shame, though bizarrely enough she seemed to be most focused on that Harry had put his life in danger. Harry wasn't sure exactly why that confused him – either because he had grown detached to any sense of danger years ago, or the practical knowledge that no one on earth would really care if his invincibility did fail him.

Hermione was very grateful, so Harry got over the tongue lashing quickly enough.

By noon, everyone was talking about the rescue and Harry's total lack of injury despite falling over fifty feet. More people were talking to him then ever, including a couple of girls who used terms he had never heard before. Contracts? Since when did eleven year olds talk about contracts? It wasn't like Harry owned a business.

Getting more attention then before didn't agree with the 'boy who lived', so after getting fed up with it all a few days later he fled to the bathroom and proceeded to hide away in there.

It was Halloween night, a day Harry didn't hold in much fondness for multiple reasons. Firstly, it was the night his parents had died, along with any chance of a normal, happy life. Secondly, Dudley always loved to get a load of candy and then eat it in front of Harry, who knew the kind of trouble he'd be in if he tried to take any. The only thing really tempting him to come out was the Halloween feast, but he figured it would go on for at least two hours and that he could snag some treats near the end.

Harry looked down at the letter he was holding. It was from Ginny, Ron's sister who he had rescued. She said that she would like to talk to him through mail, if that was alright. Harry stepped towards the sinks, not really sure how to respond to this, when he looked in the mirror and saw the troll behind him.

Yes. A fully grown mountain troll somehow got inside a school called the 'safest around' where little kids were.

Harry turned around and stared up at it. The troll stared back. Harry's knee-jerk reaction to any would-be dangerous situation kicked in a moment later. "Dudley? Is that you?"

It was amazing that despite having a brain the size of a pea, the troll seemed to understand it had just been insulted. It raised its club and smashed it against Harry, sending him flying through several stalls.

Getting up, Harry grinned back at it. "I thought that was you! Man, you followed me all the way out here to resume our relationship? What're your friends gonna think?"

The troll grunted and attempted to squash him with the club. Harry jumped to one side, wondering how he was going to subdue this thing before an idea struck him. Grabbing the longest piece of wooden debris near him, he concentrated just as he had been taught in Transfiguration. Except this time, instead of a needle, he thought of a chain.

Concentrating wasn't easy – especially when the troll picked him up and kept bashing him against the walls, trying to draw blood – but after several long moments a chain sat ready in Harry's hand.

Harry twisted and yelled, "Burst up!" Two of the trolls finger's exploded. The beast howled and dropped him to the floor.

Harry got up, grinning maniacally. "How'd you like that, Dudders?" He asked. "I discovered that little trick when I ran across some crazy hillbillies. Does that hurt? I hope so."

The troll staggered backwards, its club clunking to the floor. Harry bolted towards it and jumped, clawing his way up the creature's back. The troll thrashed as the young boy wrapped the length of chain around its neck and held on with both hands.

Ron and Hermione, who had doubled back from the evacuation once they had realized Harry was missing, came to a dead stop at the end of the hall.

The troll was stumbling back and forth, crashing into suits of armour. Harry was yanking it and fro, singing a western bull fighter song, off key and at the top of his lungs. He was standing on the troll's back, the chain pulled taught.

"Yo-de-ledi-lee-hoo!" Harry cheered, before noticing his gaping friends. "Oh hey guys!" He said as the troll stopped staggering, one foot lodged in the chest piece of an armour.

"What...what..." Hermione paused, took a breath, and then yelled, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"

"Inventing troll fighting!" Harry replied, the huge stupid grin still on his face. "You know! It's like bull fighting, only with trolls? Or would it be more like trying to break a horse?" The second question was directed partially at himself.

The troll groaned, pawing at its neck. "Harry!" Ron cried, realizing the beast had been effectively asphixiated.

Harry blinked and looked up, realizing his mount was falling over backwards. "Oh, come on," He complained before the beast crashed to the ground on top of him.

Horrified, both Ron and Hermione rushed over. When trying to move the troll's body by hand didn't work, Hermione re-taught Ron the incantation for the hovering charm and lifted it that way.

Harry was lying flat on his back, covered in slime. Upon being freed, he immediately vomited. "Note to self – make sure the trolls are bathed before they go into the ring," He droned in an announcer's voice. Rolling over to look at his friends, he said weakly, "Please tell me you guys saved a few things from the table. I feel like I've had an entire dumpster emptied into my mouth."

"Bloody hell," Ron swore as Hermione anxiously got Harry to his feet.

"You really can't be hurt," Hermione observed quietly. When Harry nodded, she immediately slapped him across the face.

"Ow! What the heck?!" Harry demanded, flustered.

"That was for making me worry!" Hermione stormed, getting right in his face. "I didn't know that, I thought you had cast some sort of charm when my broom broke! _I thought the troll was going to kill you!_"

Flushed, Harry stammered, "Sorry." Hermione huffed, before reaching forward and hugging him. Harry blushed a bit as she muttered, "I'm glad you're okay, you crazy git."

A moment later, they were joined by Professor Snape, McGonagall and Quirrel. McGonagall looked between the strangled troll, then at Harry, then back again, made a few wordless noises and then ordered Harry into the medical wing.

When, once again, the school nurse declared him totally void of injury, McGonagall marched the protesting Harry to the Headmaster's office. When even Albus Dumbledore, apparently the greatest modern wizard, couldn't tell what charms Harry might have put on himself, she exploded "What IS this then?!"

Dumbledore looked very gravely at Harry, like he was imagining having to write the boy's obituary. It annoyed the younger boy.

"I dunno." Harry shrugged.

"What-do-you- HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?!" McGonagall shouted, the high pitch drowning out her Scottish accent. "You had a two-ton troll fall right on top of you and instead of being turned into bloody paste you're just fine! No one can do that!"

"How's that possible?" Harry asked, incredulous. "You guys have all kinds of _magic_! How is there _anything _you can't do?"

"Even magic has limits, Mr Potter! I have yet to discover any kind of magic that gives the caster the apparent invincibility you seem to believe you possess! First the broom and then this. Are you _trying _to give us all heart attacks?"

"I didn't go looking for the troll, it found me!" Harry complained. "That wasn't my fault! I just wanted some peace and quiet, I go walking out for the end of the feast and bam!, troll appears! Where did that thing even come from?"

"We are investigating now," Dumbledore responded mysteriously. "Harry, I'm sorry you had such a shock this evening. Run along to bed now."

Harry frowned but did as he was told; he had been hoping to talk to Hermione before they all had to go to sleep. Once he had left the office, McGonagall sat down in the chair directly across from the ageing Headmaster.

"That wasn't true, was it? You do know why Potter wasn't hurt."

"I merely possess a wisp of a theory, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore replied gravely. "It has to do with that night, the night where Lily and James died. There was magic at work there that even I do not possess a good understanding of."

"Then how do we adapt to this?"

"For now, we keep an eye on young Harry and see how he grows. This power may be the key to how he survived Voldemort all those years ago."

**End Chapter**

**I'd make a joke about how Hogwarts is a demon-worshiping death trap for children (like Mario Party) but let's face it that joke's been made a million times. Next chapter, Harry gives Voldemort a stupid nickname and gets adopted (because why would you let a kid like that wander around by himself. god knows what he'd break.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Boy Who Could Not Die**

**Wanda: Ugh, this chapter was a pain. I realized about halfway through this that this story doesn't really get going until second year, where Harry is actually in contact with one of the things that could actually kill him. Plus, that's where I start building up the angst...ugh. I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm sorry if this chapter is short and not that good.**

**Chapter 4: Never expect maturity from an invincible eleven year old**

After inventing troll fighting, Harry realized that his life would never be 'normal', or any facsimile thereof.

It was Hermione who discovered that something was being hidden in the school. Whoever had let the troll in during Halloween had intended for it to be a distraction while they searched for this object. Harry couldn't deny being curious, especially given how secretive everyone was being about it – they had to coax some information out of Hagrid, the groundskeeper. A friendly guy, a nice guy, but terrible at keeping secrets.

That did make Harry wonder why the Headmaster told him such sensitive information, in case someone malicious discovered it, but he put those thoughts on hold. It was not for him to try and discern the mysteries of the adult mind. (or so he said, dramatically, when Ron asked him)

Ron was convinced that the potions teacher was responsible for the troll, and was trying to steal the package. Harry was a bit sceptical.

"I know you don't like him," Harry said to his friend. "But isn't that a bit too easy?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, confused. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Exactly!" Harry said, waving his wand under Ron's nose. "I think that if Snape was responsible, he would have been caught by now. I mean, everyone hates him, so he'd be the first suspect! He's too obvious, it has to be someone else."

"But who else could it be," Ron asked, looking around the library. "I mean, who else would try to rob something that Professor Dumbledore has set up guards for?"

Hermione had a contemplative expression on her face, when suddenly her eyes widened and she shot off into the stacks of books. Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks.

"What'd I say?" Ron asked helplessly. He and Hermione had trouble getting along occasionally, leaving Harry to act as peacemaker. (that often went over about as well as you'd expect.)

"Ron, you're a genius!" Hermione said breathlessly when she reappeared from the shelves.

"I am?" Ron perked up at that, both confused and pleased.

Hermione dropped book on the table – it was so large that it made everyone on it rattle upon impact. "I just remembered some trivia on Dumbledore – he occasionally does alchemy with the help of his longtime friend and partner Nicholas Flamel!"

Harry brightened. "That's the name Hagrid mentioned to us!"

Hermione nodded, opening the book up to Flamel's page. "It says here that he's the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone. That's what's under the trap door, that's what the three headed dog is guarding!" She looked extremely excited at this revelation.

"Wow! What should we do?"

"Well, if someone's trying to steal it, maybe we should go and get it first?" Harry suggested. "Then we could give it to Dumbledore and tell him its not safe here anymore."

"But how would we steal it?" Ron asked, frowning. "I heard all the teachers had a hand in setting up traps to protect it."

"I could get past the traps," Harry volunteered. "If there was some way for you guys to communicate with me, you could guide me through the rest of the traps until I reach the stone! Plus, this way you guys won't be at risk of getting hurt."

The problem with having friends who didn't share your invincibility was that you started to feel fear again – you were afraid of them getting hurt by things you wouldn't even blink at.

Harry rediscovered this fear when Hermione fell on the stairs thanks to Malfoy and chipped a tooth. Poppy, the school nurse, had fixed it up in record time, but Harry couldn't forget helping Hermione there as she cried from the pain.

Hermione tapped her fingers against the book. "I think I might have heard about some spells that could help us...but I need some time to find and work on them...okay, we'll try and steal the stone around Christmas. That gives us some time to prepare."

**Boxing Day, weeks later**

Harry whistled innocently as he examined the mirror that he, Ron and Hermione had created.

It didn't look like anything special, but if he said either of their names he could talk to them no matter how far away they were. Between this and the invisibility cloak he had been given as a present, the stone would be his within the day.

Harry carefully placed the mirror inside the pocket of his Weasley sweater. Gently he brushed his fingers over the fabric. Though he had covered it up, he had been shocked when Ron revealed his mother had given him something. Harry, who had never received gifts before, had a rare moment where he had nothing to say.

This was what made him decide to trade letters with Ginny Weasley. He hoped that, if he asked, Ron would let him come over to his house someday soon.

Putting these thoughts aside, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over his head and hurried out of the dormitory. It was late at night; the only people out were crabby old Filch and the ghosts, who Harry was already quite practised at avoiding.

Upon reaching the third floor, Harry placed his cloak down in a bundle for Ron to pick up in a few minutes. Then he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;%&amp;

Fluffy immediately snapped Harry up between the jaws of his middle head.

Harry lost his glasses as the room tossed around him, but he endeavoured to remain still as the increasingly frustrated animal attempted to make a meal out of him.

After a minute of being tossed around, Harry pulled out his wand. "Thanks for the ride, but I'd like to go down now." He shot a stinging hex at the side of Fluffy's head.

Whining, the Cerberus dropped him. When Harry got to his feet, Fluffy was backing up, eyeing him suspiciously with all three heads.

"That's what happens when you eat whatever moves!" Harry scolded the creature, using a spell to clean the drool of his clothes. "Tell you what. Let me down the trap door and I'll tell Hagrid to give you some extra treats tomorrow."

Fluffy whined again, but he seemed to recognize the incentive. Harry walked up to the trap door unchallenged, but before he went down he scratched Fluffy between one set of ears. "Good dog," He said. Then he jumped into the hole.

The next trap was a devil's snare. Hermione told him to start a fire, sharing the bluebell flame spell she had mastered a while back with him.

Harry decided he hated anything involving broomsticks when the bird-key trap was dealt with.

Ron walked him through the chess puzzle; the kid was really good – perhaps Harry should show him some of the muggle's professional chess games. With a little familiarity with the muggle world, Ron would fit right in.

Hermione explained the riddle to him, and Harry worked more on his troll-fighting resume.

"There are still some kinks to work out," Harry chuckled as he pulled his leg free of the troll's body. "First, I have to figure out how to keep them from getting choked..."

Finally Harry came to a mirror. A strange mirror, too – it didn't just show his reflection...it showed images of his mother and father as well.

Tentatively, Harry raised a hand and brushed his fingers over his mother's face. The beautiful redhead smiled back at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. The boy who never felt pain was struck by a longing so terrible it threatened to choke him.

Lily Potter smiled lovingly at him and pressed a red stone into his hand.

Harry looked down and saw that he was now in possession of the Philosopher's stone. He turned and stared at his lost parents once again, wondering what could have been.

"Potter."

Harry turned around and marvelled. Hermione had been right! It wasn't Snape after all, it was someone who would have been beneath suspicion – it was Professor Quirrel!

But...not _just _professor Quirrel. The man was standing with his back to him...but there was still a face with red eyes and no nose staring back at him.

"I see you found the stone..." The second face hissed while Harry tried not to loose his dinner at the disgusting sight. "Perfect...you're a better minion then Quirrel ever was...now...give it to me..."

"How about no, no-nose?" Harry asked.

"Silence! Your insolence does you no favors, Potter."

"Oh, sorry – _Professor _no-nose," Harry corrected himself.

The second face seethed with rage. "You'll pay for your insolence, Potter!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Like I've never heard that before." He said sarcastically, shoving the stone in his pocket.

Voldemort made Quirrel lunge at Harry. In retrospect, that was a very plebeian – dare I say, _muggle –_ response to Harry's taunting. Even if his skin hadn't burned like coals in a fire upon contact, even if Harry pounced on him and forced him to burn to death, surely the master of dark magic was above using his _fists_ like a common _muggle_ criminal.

In the end, Harry stood dazed on top of a mound of ash when Albus Dumbledore came down to see who had tripped the alarms.

**In the Office**

Harry thought that Dumbledore seemed far to pleased that he'd been willing to risk his life on the off chance someone wanted the stone. Frankly, Harry thought there was more going on inside this old man's head them anyone was willing to admit.

However, news that he was being fostered by the Weasleys successfully pulled his attention away from that. The promise of a real home for someone who had never been wanted was as good as a distraction could ever get.

**End Chapter**

**(sigh) Again, I'm sorry its so short. But the real heart of the story really is set in second year. I hope my lovely readers are willing to bear with me for a little.**

**Read and Review, please.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Boy Who Could Not Die**

**Tyene: (swears and jumps out of the way of invincible!Harry, who is currently zooming through the air on a jetpack). Would somebody _please _find some way to keep his feet on the ground!?**

**Wanda: You're more likely to raise the castle of Bara-Dur with your hands.**

**Tyene: (ducks again) Oh, screw you Wanda!**

**Wanda: (giggles) Yes, you're reading this right! I'm bringing this story _black _from the dreadlocks...with this incredibly short chapter! But hey, it's just meant as a sweet little interlude where crazy Harry interacts with Ginny and Ron. I just wanted to emphasize how different Harry feels in comparison to people who can actually get hurt.**

**Tyene: (swearing at invincible!Harry off screen) GET DOWN FROM THERE!**

**Wanda: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter 5: Whispers and Companionship**

The summer was a strange and interesting one for Harry.

Not because anything particularly odd had happened – aside from getting into trouble with the help of Fred and George, admittedly a much more tame sort of trouble then he was used to – but there was just something so alien about living in the Weasley house.

Everything there seemed alight with love, friendliness and compassion. Happiness radiated from every part of the house. Everyone was friendly and always cracking jokes, telling stories, and generally trying to make Harry feel at home.

Between the clanking ghoul in the attic, the gnomes that needed to be flung through the air every other day and the self-washing dishes, the Burrow was certainly a very strange place.

Harry, even after two months of living there, wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He was a kid who considered sleeping alone in snowbanks normal; staying up late in a semi-comfortable bed talked with another kid his age was the thing that felt strange.

He chatted with Ron and Ginny, even playing Quidditch with them when they asked for it. He messed around with Fred and George, even allowing himself to be a guinny pig in their experiments (because he wouldn't end up in St Mugos due to some rouge substances consumed by their sometimes dopey younger brother).

He hadn't met Charlie or Bill yet, but given how worshipful Ginny talked about Bill and Charlie's dragon taming, he imagined they were pretty awesome too.

The only downside was Percy. He was a stuck up ignoramus, no matter what Mrs Weasley thought.

Mrs Weasley was a kind woman who made sure that Harry got two servings every time at dinner. This was despite the fact that her family lives paycheck to paycheck, could barely afford to feed themselves or buy themselves anything nice or new. Harry, despite not needing any food, made sure to clean his plate every single times because of this.

Mr Weasley was fun to be around. He was odd and eccentric, though to Harry he was positively interesting. Arthur was fascinated with Harry, and together the two of them decided they were going to try to make a television set that could work with magic after Harry explained it and 80s actions movies to the older man.

Arthur thought that the TV would be a wonderful invention to introduce to the community. Harry, meanwhile, just wanted to see how Fred and George would take away from the Stallone or assorted similar movies.

The world might not survive it.

/

"What's it like, Harry? To never be afraid of anything?"

"...I'm not sure what to tell you, Ginny. I mean, the idea of getting hurt just kind of...doesn't really seem to register anymore. Like a half forgotten dream. And once nothing feels dangerous, well...everything starts to look like fun. Imagine it."

"What should I imagine?"

Harry and Ginny were sitting up on the roof. The foster kid had been stargazing when the family's youngest child and come up to join him out of curiosity. After pointing out a few constellations, they started discussing his 'powers'.

"Well...think of it this way." Harry placed a hand over her eyes. Ginny smiled hesitantly in response. "Ever gone scuba diving? It's when muggles strap an air tank to their backs and dive deep underwater to see everything in that world."

"Aren't there sharks underwater?"

"Yeah, but they can't hurt you. Besides, most sharks are actually fairly docile compared to other animal killers. More people kill sharks than sharks kill people. But that's not the point. Imagine you can go as deep underwater as you want...there's light filtering in through the surface of the water. It's broken up, drawing golden streaks across the seafloor. All around you, there are exotic fish...things you hadn't even realize existed. Orca whales, bottle nosed dolphins that bounce about and bring stranded sailors to safety. Golden fish, leafy sea dragons, jellyfish, stingrays...there's no noise, no clutter from other people going here and there. It's quiet...you can hear your own heart beat and the rushing of the water closer to the surface...it's nice, isn't it? Can you see it?"

"I...I think so. That sounds wonderful. Do you see everything like this?"

"Heh. I used to sleep in piles of snow. You know when people say that no two snowflakes look the same? That's literally true. I could spend days looking through different snowflakes in my hand...they're a little hard to see in detail, but if you look very close...it's an art."

"I drew a lot of snowflakes when I was little."

"You're not all that big now."

Ginny made a face and shoved Harry, causing him to yelp and crash down from the roof. Alarmed, the redhead straightened up only for Harry to reappear on the roof with leaves in his hair, just looking a little annoyed.

"Okay. I deserved that." He said jokingly, causing the girl to giggle again and relax.

"I like dragons." Ginny said quietly. "I want to see one up close someday."

"Dragons are one of the most badass things around..." Harry mused. "Should be pretty cool. You said your brother works with them?"

"Yeah, Charlie. Mum didn't really approve at first...thought it was too dangerous. But Charlie proved that dragons can be gentle and friendly...instead of town burning menaces." She frowned slightly. "Too bad dragons are banned in Britain. They say they're too noticeable."

"Oh come on! You hide your hospital in plain view of non magical people! Why would they notice a dragon if they never notice the weird robed people going in and out of the building."

Ginny made a face. "Dad says that common sense isn't a big selling point at the Ministry."

"So they're like most politicians then?"

Both kids laughed.

"Are you excited to go back to Hogwarts Harry?"

"Sure. Maybe I'll invent another replacement for bull fighting! Maybe we'll get to see dragons - wouldn't put anything past the place that let trolls in with vulnerable children..."

"Says the boy that made a game out of subduing them."

"Sounds like a movie to me! Like...Dragon training, a how to guide!"

They talked a little more after this, until Ginny fell asleep. At that point, Harry picked her up and carefully brought her back down into the Burrow and placed her in her bed before running off to his cott in Ron's room.

**End Chapter**

**Aaaawww, Harry has other emotions other then deadpan in the face of danger! Hooray! So here's a chapter of him and Ginny being cute to prove that I haven't abandoned this story! It's too funny a concept for that.**

**Read and Review please! (if anyone's still left)**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Boy Who Could Not Die**

**Wanda: Where's the snake?**

**Tyene: (wearing sunglasses while searching through a dark room) How would I know!? I'm still trying to figure out how you let it get past you in the first place!**

**Wanda: I was writing! Just find it before we all die! (shudders and puts glasses on) I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter 6: Dangerous Returns **

Harry convinced Ginny and her friend Luna to sit in the car with the rest of them as they went into their next year at Hogwarts. Ginny was very nervous (though she would rather die than admit it to his face) since it was her first year, though she had Luna looking after her. Harry liked Luna; they had a lot of the same thought processes and saw the world in similar ways. Luna found him very interesting, though she did say something he didn't understand.

She asked him if the snake coiled around his forehead had always been there. When he asked her about it, she blinked and said she must have been imagining things.

For some reason, the question made Harry intensely uncomfortable – not a feeling he was very familiar with.

Either way, school seemed to start out on a pretty comfortable note – though Defence Against the Dark Arts was once again a huge disappointment.

Harry was pretty sure Gildroy Lockhart was a fraud of some sort, though how he was slipping under everyone's radar he couldn't fathom. The man's first class involved him releasing a bunch of cornish pixies into the classroom, which he proceeded to loose control over. The creatures destroyed a number of books and hung poor Neville on the chandelier before Hermione got fed up and cast a charm that froze them all in place.

Harry was fairly certain that Lockhart should have been capable of that charm if he had done half the things he claimed to, especially since Hermione could handle it. Granted, Hermione was super smart and always seemed to have an answer for things that Harry couldn't just stand in front of and stop in their tracks, but Lockhart was a lot older than her and had way more experience...or so he said.

He complained about this to McGonagall, who pursed her lips together and told him that it wasn't her place to question the Headmaster's decision. Harry guessed by her expression that she didn't care much for the newest addition to the staff either.

Fred and George took this as a carte blanche to make as much disruptive chaos in Lockhart's class as possible. Harry heard all about it from them over lunch, the twins having dubbed him the perfect partner in crime. (mainly, because he could drink anything and make it look like it had no effect on him. Perfect for suckering unsuspecting people in)

For the first week or so, Harry took everything at his own pace. (which, according to McGonagall, was giving her another few white hairs when he jumped on top of a venomous snake and twisted it into a knot when he spotted it creeping up on Neville in the Greenhouse.) But there was something he couldn't help but notice.

Ginny, usually boundlessly energetic, independent and always prepared to either help Fred and George or retaliate with a prank of her own, seemed rather down cast and tired all the time. Harry was tempted to butt in, but he doubted the fiery redhead would appreciate it.

She had expressed her annoyance at Ron's coddling enough times over the summer for him to be sure of that. Said annoyance came along with a curious burst of magic that caused bats made of boogers to attack annoying brothers.

Harry, laughing the whole time, suggested to Ron that he take the hint the second time that happened.

However, the seemingly idyllic autumn was not to last – nothing ever seemed to around him.

Sometimes Harry wondered if he was cursed. In a way, he was, but not in the way he had thought of – and he wouldn't discover that for quite some time.

****A week into October****

Harry ran out of the Great Hall when he heard Hermione shriek, Ron hot on his heels. Zeroing in on his bushy haired friend, the two boys came skidding to a halt when they saw what she saw.

Filch's annoying cat Mrs Norris was hanging from the ceiling like a dead cow in a meat processing plant, her body frozen in place and unmoving. Directly above where the gruesome ornament was hanging, there was a message.

Confusing words. Deadly words. All written in a bright crimson red that Harry knew from experience wasn't paint.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened. Enemies of the Heir beware. _

Harry didn't quite understand, but the smirk on Draco Malfoy's face when the rest of the students arrived and saw the message as well told him it couldn't be anything good. The head Slytherin in his year always acted like a child from Super Sweet 16 mixed with the generic bully you saw in every underdog sports movie ever. He was incredibly annoying towards Harry, treating him like a rival even though Harry could care less about him and payed him little attention.

Unfortunately, that only made Malfoy more aggressive – how dare anyone not pay attention to him or kowtow whenever he entered the room! When he realized that Harry didn't give a damn what he thought no matter what he did, he instead turned his attention to pestering Hermione and Ron. He had a predictable attack pattern – sneer at Ron for being poor, and Hermione for having muggle parents.

While Hermione was developing a thicker skin (though it certainly bothered her), Ron was very easily baited and often got into trouble with fighting with Malfoy.

Harry hoped that his way of handling the boy would rub off on Ron eventually.

Draco would say, "I would expect as much...after all, you were born in a bin."

And Harry would respond, "How do you know that? Did your father stalk Mrs Weasley when she was pregnant for hours on end? This is getting a bit out of hand Draco, you know the Weasleys can press charges on that right?"

Draco would stare at him, Harry would smirk and pull his friends down the hall leaving the pureblood ponce to fume impotently.

There had been a few occasions where Harry contemplated dropping the Malfoy scion out the window when he was asleep. It wouldn't leave much evidence behind, he just had to do it in the middle of the night and be in bed before morning! Unfortunately, he had to nix that plan when he remembered that the ghosts patrolled the entire castle fairly regularly and would probably catch him.

Harry shook his head, pulling himself back to the present and looked up at the wall. Dumbledore was babbling something about safety and being careful. (_Yeah, like that had helped when the troll came in or when Voldemort waltzed right in the front door on the back of Quirrel's head...come to think of it he might want to give Lockhart a check, just in case.)_

_The Chamber of Secrets...where have I heard that before? Did Hermione mention it to me at some point last year? Or did I read it whenever I crashed in the library, hiding from fangirls and aurors last year when my ability became common knowledge?_

_And why am I feeling like this...? This feels unfamiliar...it's almost like dread...of course, I'm worried for Hermione, but she's smart and careful... ...and if not for her, there's Ginny, she's got her whole family looking after her..._

_...Am _I _afraid? That's crazy. And if I am, _why _am I feeling this way? What is it about this proclamation, this...chamber, that frightens me? _

Harry closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to clear his head...and a very old nightmare flashed before his eyes. The woman screaming and the green light.

_What...what is this? How is it connected to me? _

Dumbledore explained that Mrs Norris was petrified, not murdered. Lockhart, bumbling idiot that he was, upset Filch even further (the man was going to be intolerable until his cat was back, and he was pretty nasty already) and bragged about brewing potions in his sleep.

Thankfully, Snape shut him up. There was a sort of strained truce between Harry and the Potion's Professor. The man clearly disliked him with an inexplicable intensity, not that Harry particularly cared. (the boy didn't care about much of anything, aside from his friends and finding new ways of amusing himself when he was bored. And, quite often, he was very bored indeed – potion's class brought this on the most)

But whatever image the man had of Harry had been pretty thoroughly shattered throughout his first year. Now, the man seemed to begrudgingly leave him alone most of the time.

"So much for a normal year." Ron sighed as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. "On Ginny's first year here, too. She doesn't need this kind of stress in her first year, especially without mum here for her."

"Can somebody explain to me what the Chamber is?" Harry asked.

Surprisingly, it was Ron, not Hermione that answered this question. "It's supposed to just be a myth, a bedtime story." He looked worried, which bothered Harry even more. Ron wasn't one to let his concerns override his natural blustering bullheaded energy he always seemed to emit. "Mum says that a long time ago, Salazar Slytherin – one of the founders – thought that only children of wizarding families should be allowed to use magic."

"Where have I heard that before?" Harry asked sarcastically before adding, "I take it the others didn't agree?"

"No. When he couldn't convince them, Slytherin left the school. But they say before he left, he built a chamber that only his Heir could open deep inside the school. He put a monster inside, something his Heir would be able to control someday in order to destroy anyone he thought wasn't worthy of magic."

"That must be the heir the bloody message was referring to," Harry noted. "So where do you think it might be?"

"Hogwarts has been searched multiple times over the years," Hermione said with a troubled look in her eyes, "They've never found anything matching the description of the Chamber."

"So we've got another mystery on our hands." Harry said, casually stretching his arms and winding them behind his neck. "Just like last year. I wonder if this will be a pattern until we graduate."

"God, I hope not." Hermione muttered.

**End Chapter**

**Oh, poor Hermione. You've hardly seen the half of it. honestly I'm surprised more kids in the books don't complain about how ridiculously unsafe Hogwarts tends to be whenever Harry's there...I mean, obviously it isn't his fault but it's like the teachers aren't even trying when it comes to making sure a couple of barely teens don't have to clean up their messes.**

**Read and Review please!**


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